


A Classic Console and Atmospheric Lighting

by bossxtweed



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Blood, F/F, gallifreyan society is WACK y'all, imperialism (on the part of Gallifrey), involves the messed-up concept of Time Lords getting RELOOMEd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 16:56:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24350164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bossxtweed/pseuds/bossxtweed
Summary: River encounters Martin!Doctor who just narrowly escaped from the Division's grasp.
Relationships: The Doctor/River Song
Kudos: 16





	A Classic Console and Atmospheric Lighting

The Doctor sits in the console room with her legs folded against her chest and her face buried in her knees, hiding the tears which stain the weathered fabric of her jeans. 

She failed. For once, the tests had proven too much and she'd **_failed,_ ** and what was worse, she’d earned nothing to prove her interference worth it. Gat had looked ready to **_kill_ ** as the Doctor had run off to the shelter of her TARDIS with blood staining her hands and clothes. Running, _always_ running, from a job she hadn’t chosen and from which she could never hope to escape. 

The doors open as if of their own accord but the Doctor doesn’t move. If it were Gat or one of the Guards, they’d simply drag her off, slap her for her insolence, and demand she get cleaned up before they sent her on her next mission; and if they were feeling _nice,_ they might even let her have a drink or two to calm her nerves. 

Someone starts speaking, and it’s a voice the Doctor doesn’t recognize; one that’s full of warmth, adoration, and the _slightest_ bit of amusement, but they cannot see the Doctor where she sits huddled in the corner. _They’re talking_ **_to_ ** _the ship,_ she notes, lifting her head to watch the woman make her way around the console room. _How does she know you, ol’ girl?_

“It’s _classic,”_ the stranger notes, placing one hand on the central console. “Must be a younger version, then---though the _blue_ is new…. _atmospheric,”_ she muses. 

The woman rounds the console, allowing the Doctor to see her fully: a white woman with wild blonde curls, dressed in an olive green peacoat, black slacks, and a pair of high heels which the Doctor highly doubted were comfortable. Under her arm rests a TARDIS-blue notebook, over half of its pages filled with adventures yet to come, and she pauses, leaning her back against the railing, to flip through the little book. “Huh,” she breathes, lifting her gaze to the central console for the briefest of moments. “I’ve got nothing in my diary about _this_ version of you, darling. I wonder….” She turns away from the console and finally spies the Doctor.

“Hello?” the stranger asks, taking a couple of small steps towards the Doctor. “Sweetie, is that you?”

The Doctor stands and wipes her eyes with one hand and takes a deep breath before matching the stranger step for step, finally stopping a few inches away from her. “How’d you get in my ship?" she asks wearily. "Ol' girl's supposed to keep the riff raff out."

The stranger laughs, extending one hand towards the Doctor, and it’s a gentle touch, with a white hand squeezing a brown one, and after the handshake the stranger falls silent for a long moment, searching the Doctor’s face. 

_It’s as if she sees right through me,_ the Doctor muses. 

“Allow me to introduce myself,” the stranger begins, scarcely bothered by the blood which had transferred onto her palm. “My name’s River Song and---before you ask--- _yes,_ we know each other.” She looks around the room for a moment before saying, “I’m guessing _diaries,”_ she holds her notebook up to emphasize her point, “are out of the question?”

“I _definitely_ don’t have one of those,” the Doctor responds, motioning towards the notebook. “Though I can’t say we _haven’t_ met before---my memory’s not as sharp as it could be,” she lied. For once, Gat had let her go _without_ a forced memory wipe, and it wasn’t as if she simply _chose_ to forget large portions of her life. The Agency took the liberty of choosing what was and what wasn’t important, ranging from the names of her children to the names and faces of those she’d removed from time, and often the only thing remaining after a memory wipe was an all-over feeling of something being _wrong_ with a greasiness to her skin and a sick feeling in her stomach, with this time proving no exception.

Blood stands out on her hands, one of her cheeks, and the front of her shirt---the orangish-red blood of Gallifrey. The Doctor shuts her eyes against the memory and bites back a wave of nausea, telling herself: _you didn’t---couldn’t---_ **_wouldn’t---_ ** _have hurt them. It was just one of Gat’s games; they’re_ **_fine._ **

“Are you still with me, sweetie?” River asks, carefully reaching out to cup the Doctor’s cheek. “Or have you gone off somewhere in there?”

Startled, the Doctor pulls back, her eyebrows furrowing. _This could be a_ ** _trick,_** she tells herself. _Gat or someone could’ve sent her, trying to make me comfortable before the next mission._

“Doctor?” River asks, her own hearts heavy as she notes the fear and trauma in the Doctor’s brown eyes. “Would you like to talk about it?”

Silence settles over the pair, seeping into their skin and settling heavily in their bones, drowning their lungs, and grating on their ears, but River knows better than to cut through the silence. If she spoke too soon, the Doctor would retreat into herself. Compartmentalization came all-too-easily to the Time Lord, but River had come to learn that it wasn’t instantaneous, that the Doctor required space in which to process and grieve before they were able to shove whatever had been bothering them into a little box and move on.

Cautiously, River repeats, “Doctor?”

“.....they’re dead,” she breathes, sinking back onto the floor. Pressing her palms together makes her all-too-aware of the blood flaking on them and she lets out a sob, saying, “I---I dunno---”

River crouches down in front of the Doctor, places one hand over hers, and smiles softly, encouragingly, saying, “let me help you, Doctor. _Please,_ tell me what happened, and I **_can_** help you.”

The Doctor shakes her head firmly. “No, no. I---I _can’t---”_

“Sweetie, _please,”_ River pleads, “I can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s wrong. If it makes it easier---” she moves her hand to hover over the Doctor’s cheek, her gaze saying, _we can do this psychically, if you’d prefer._

With wide, fearful eyes, the Doctor hesitates. _You don’t know her,_ she reminds herself; _you shouldn’t share your secrets with someone you just met._

Despite her hesitation, the Doctor finds herself trusting this woman implicitly, and she finally nods, consenting to the intimacy of having someone else roaming through her thoughts, shifting through the muddled memories to hopefully discern the truth from what frightened her so.

“Contact,” River breathes, putting her hand on the Doctor’s cheek and shutting her eyes.

 _It began with Gat----as it often did----going on about some horrible entity on a distant planet, and how they were ruining the very fabric of time by their very existence, and if the Doctor were being honest with herself, she’d zoned out about thirty seconds into the woman’s speech. And Gat had called her out on it, demanding she repeat what she’d just heard, which she_ **_did_ ** _\---_ **_flawlessly._ ** _One of the benefits of multiple brains: one could zone out and venture into their imagination while their subconscious processed the world around them, and it had felt so_ **_good_ ** _to see that embarrassed flush creep over the other Time Lord’s face._

 _Something about Gat’s story hadn’t sat right with her, though. For once, her brown eyes met no one else’s, her tone of voice felt a tad_ **_too_ ** _well-calculated, and her brown cheeks were ashen, but everyone knew better than to ask her about it. One agent getting nervous didn’t mean anything._

_A head operative, however? Her anxiety and foreboding had permeated the room like a suffocating fog, clinging to everyone’s skin and blocking their throats, and it had settled heavily in the Doctor’s stomach._

_Once they arrived, the Doctor_ **_knew_ ** _they were in the wrong---there were no weapons, or natural disasters, or people attacking each other in the street---it was simply a peaceful little planet in a distant galaxy, with idyllic little villages and smiling citizens and a constantly_ **_purple_ ** _sky: another red flag. Gat had warned her not to be fooled by appearances, that the people of this planet would one day go on to destroy entire_ **_galaxies_ ** _(a point of_ **_hypocrisy,_ ** _the Doctor noted, given Gallifrey’s own involvement in the fabric of time and space), and that it was best to act preemptively by killing the killers before they had even spilled their first blood._

 _They had before removed a handful of planets from their places in the universe and trapped them in a temporal lock, but those planets had usually possessed something remarkably_ **_malevolent_ ** _about them, such as the one which passed itself off as a vacation planet which proved to be a front for a Cyberconversion factory or the one which sacrificed alien species in supplication to their deity._

_The plan had been: find their leader, incapacitate them, then plant the necessary tech before fleeing, having removed the planet not only from the fabric of space but from the existence of time, retroactively rendering it nonexistent and leaving behind no traces for future archaeological study._

The taste of sorrow permeates River’s mouth. She _knows_ that planet, has been there on diplomatic visits as well as archaeological digs, and the blood which stains the Doctor’s hands and clothes are now beginning to seem less out-of-place. 

_What happened then?_ River asks. _Once you realized what was happening?_

The Doctor hesitates again. Part of her wants to draw back and apologize profusely for wasting River’s time and tell her that she will see her later, assuming she is _allowed_ a later, while another part wants still to share what she experienced in order to make sense of it all.

 _I_ **_ran,_ ** the Doctor thought. _I told the people what they needed to do to protect themselves and_ **_how_ ** _to do it, and then I got into my TARDIS and went back to Gallifrey, back to my old house where my wife and the youngest of my children still lived. That’s where I went wrong._

When the memories prove far too painful, the Doctor pulls away and again buries her face in her knees, crying silently. River shifts from crouching to sitting beside the Doctor with her legs stretching out in front of her and she wraps one arm around her wife, saying, “it’s alright, Sweetie. Take your time.” 

Several moments pass with the only sound being that of the Doctor’s sobs and River feels her hearts break more with every passing second; to know that someone had hurt the Doctor so and to see her fall apart in this manner are almost too much for her to bear, but she knows not to treat her spouse as she would an archaeological dig; that is, with cold scrutiny and ruthless precision. 

“I know I should’ve stayed away,” the Doctor finally manages to say. “They---they were monitoring the house, making sure I stayed away from it, but I couldn’t help it. Patience looked _so_ **_beautiful…”_ **

The Doctor lifts her head and turns, placing one hand on River’s cheeks before pressing her forehead against River’s, allowing her to see what the Doctor meant.

_Patience had last seen the Doctor when they were an old white man with a young Time Tot in tow, and she welcomed the Doctor in with open arms and a broad smile. They had made a promise to one another, a long time ago, one of comfort and of convenience to appease the heads of the Great Houses, yet one which nonetheless was built upon love and trust._

_The Doctor initiated the hug._

_Her spouse smelled of lilac and metal and faintly of blueberries, as if she’d been cooking a large meal (which, as it turned out, she_ **_had_ ** _been doing) and immediately started updating her on what their older children were up to, including one of them working for the High Council (a fact which Patience seemed_ **_immensely_ ** _displeased with, given the fake cheer in her voice) and the other had taken a position at the Academy, molding young minds into the image of the perfect Time Lord. Their youngest child was still around, and they were finally_ **_ninety,_ ** _hence the large dinner._

_“Has it been that long?” the Doctor queried, standing now beside her wife as the latter plated up blueberry pancakes, and she twiddled her thumbs, poked at the batter with one hand, and stole a pancake from the top of the stack as her spouse called for their child, who came running in, their hair cropped short and their skin the same shade as the Doctor’s._

_“Dad?” they asked, dropping their journal on the ground. “Is that you?!”_

_“You’ve regenerated!” the Doctor remarked as her child ran up and wrapped their arms around her. “When did this happen?”_

_“Oh, um,” they pulled back and cast a nervous glance towards their other parent. “I--I had an---an---accident, at the Academy…. but it’s nothing to worry about!” they held their hands up in placation. “Put me back five years in my schooling, but I’ve finally caught up,_ **_and_ ** _I’m getting top marks!”_

 _“Patience, love,” the Doctor spoke, reaching out to grab Patience’s arm as she tried to walk away. Not wanting the Division to hear her next statement, she sent it as a thought:_ **_They_ ** _did this, didn’t they?_ **_They_ ** _hurt our child to punish me?_

 **_Yes,_ ** _came the response; they said you’d failed in a mission, and that harming Jay was their best bet at sending a message, given the high status of our other children._

 _What followed was a pleasant (albeit tense) meal of blueberry pancakes topped with vanilla ice-cream, the blowing out of numbered candles (on the Doctor’s insistence---it had been_ **_so long_ ** _since she had been home, and_ **_90_ ** _was a_ **_huge_ ** _milestone for their people), and the consumption of ginger-laced red wine before Jay gave both of their parents a kiss on the cheek and bid them goodnight._

_Once the dishes were sorted away, Patience and the Doctor sat at the dining table in a comfortable silence. The love which the Doctor saw in her spouse’s eyes was a direct reflection of that in her own, and the pair sat with their hands intertwined, talking silently amongst themselves._

_‘How long has it been for you?’ the Doctor asked._

_‘45 years,’ came the response. ‘I imagine it’s been longer for you?’_

_‘Nearer 350,’ the Doctor replied._

**_350?_ ** a voice cuts through the narrative. _Is that how long since you’d been home?_

 _Yes, River,_ the Doctor replies; _Jay was only forty-five when I’d left, and Patience was in a precarious situation---they were threatening to hurt her should I return, but this time---I couldn’t help it. I needed to go home._

 _I wanted, just for a_ **_moment,_ ** _to pretend I was my own person. So I went home, to my wife, to our youngest child, and we laughed and talked and I fell asleep in her arms---imagine tha’! I_ **_actually_ ** _fell asleep for once, no nightmares or anything._

 _They came during the night?_ River interjects, already picturing what the Doctor would show her next. _While your guard was down. That’s---that’s what_ **_I_ ** _would have done,_ she admits. 

_My life isn’t my own,_ the Doctor replies, and River can taste the salt of her tears as they roll down her cheeks. _It happened like this:_

 _I slept for no more than a few hours before I awoke to find myself alone in our bedroom, her side of the bed dishevelled and our hairs mingling together on the pillows---_ **_that_ ** _in particular bothered me, leaving behind trace evidence of my genetic code, though the reason_ **_why_ ** _escaped my grasp in that moment---but I couldn’t dwell on that, not when someone had_ **_clearly_ ** _been in our bedroom. I searched the house with my hearts in my throat and the nagging feeling in the back of my mind that_ **_I wasn’t alone._ **

_I found Gat in the kitchen, flanked by operatives in the robes which so often are worn by the High Council._

_“You failed us again, Doctor,” Gat’s tone conveyed nothing other than bitter disappointment that sent a shiver down the Doctor’s spine. “It was a_ **_simple_ ** _mission----take out_ **_one_ ** _planet and come back in an hour, and_ **_what_ ** _did you do?!”_

The Doctor fast forwards through the memory of Gat berating her to the moment which she doubted she could ever forget. 

_They’d taken Patience,_ the Doctor could scarcely stand to think of it, but the fact remained that she had once again failed her family. _I think they knocked me out, because I_ **_can’t_ ** _remember_ **_how_ ** _we got there, but----_

_The Looms. Five large ones without any indication of house affiliation, emitting white, glowing pulses of energy, before which two Agents held Patience back and between which Gat stood, smirking gleefully for having bested me._

_“Before you ask,” she sneered, “we couldn’t find your Tot. They must’ve inherited your proclivity for_ **_running away_ ** _whenever they’re faced with even the most_ **_minor_ ** _of difficulties. But that’s no problem at all---you see, we’ll find them, and initiate them into the Agency, and I’ll_ **_personally_ ** _see to it that the two of you_ **_never_ ** _work together. They’ll be_ **_ours_ ** _just as_ **_you_ ** _are, Doctor.”_

 _“No,” the Doctor shook her head furiously. “No---you can have me, for as long as you’d like, but_ **_leave them out of this._ ** _They’re just a_ **_child,_ ** _for Rassilon’s sake!”_

_Without breaking eye contact, Gat ordered the Agents to act while she held the Doctor back and they moved quickly---even as Patience elbowed and kicked at them, screaming a slew of curses that elicited no positive response---to shove her into one of the looms. She screamed. Blood-curdling, tear-inducing screams that brought the Doctor to her knees and which weighed heavily on her hearts._

_Once the process was complete, the Tot who emerged from the looms looks around with wide eyes, taking in their new surroundings. Gat smiled at them before explaining, “hello there. I’m Gat and_ **_you,_ ** _my friend, are going to do_ **_so much Good_ ** _while working for me.”_

_The Tot turned towards the Doctor then, wondering at how she felt familiar but unable (as of yet) to speak._

_“Don’t,” the Doctor threatened. “Let them go. You’ve already taken them away from me---don’t give me another reason to_ **_hate you.”_ **

_Gat met the Doctor’s gaze with a fake smile before she pulled out a knife, which she drove into the Tot’s chest and they crumpled, bleeding, and the Doctor shuffled over to them, saying, “No! No no no no_ **_no!”_ ** _She pulled them into her arms and pressed her face against their chest, not caring for the blood staining her cheek._

 _They erased her?_ River queries. _You’ll have to forgive me---I’m not that well-versed in how Looms work, but that sounds downright_ **_horrific._ **

_Everything about her, rewritten----not just her body, but her entire_ **_essence_ ** _as a person, distilled down into nothing other than a hollow receptacle to further the Time Lord agenda of manipulating the very fabric of the universe. I held them as they bled. Fortunately, their wounds weren’t severe enough to trigger a regeneration and they merely needed bandages along with someone to care for them;_ **_unfortunately,_ ** _Gat’s men ripped them away from me and Gat herself told me to_ **_run_ ** _if I wanted to avoid the same wretched fate as Patience._

 _And that just about brings us to the present,_ the Doctor concludes, pulling away from River. _I watched them kill my wife, and our baby is_ **_gone_ ** _somewhere, and I can’t…. I_ **_can’t_ ** _keep doing this…._

“Oh, _Sweetie,”_ River breathes, pulling the Doctor into a hug. “You _can._ I should know---I’m from your **_future,_** after all, and the Doctor I know has always soldiered on even when it seems _impossible_ to do so. But, Doctor,” she stretches one hand out and twines their fingers together, saying, “allow yourself to _grieve._ So often I’ve seen you shove everything down until it eats away at you, but you’re **_allowed_** to grieve!”

The Doctor pulls River into a long hug, finding comfort in the touch.

 _Thank-you,_ she thinks, _thank you so_ **_very much_ ** _for listening._

 _Anytime,_ River responds, squeezing the Doctor’s back. _Anytime, sweetie._


End file.
